


The Cat Who Came in from the Cold

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cats, Couch Sex, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Future Fic, Married Couple, Married Life, Mentions of Robin Hinton - Freeform, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Alternating, POV Phil Coulson, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Secret Warriors (Marvel), mentions of Cal Zabo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 14:06:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8716786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Daisy and Phil acquire a pet. Slice of life domestic fluff.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pippypaleopath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippypaleopath/gifts).



> i-deduce-skeletons on Tumblr basically bribed me with kitten gifs until I wrote this. Sequel to [5 Christmas Gifts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8706094).

Coulson's not expecting Daisy to walk into their kitchen one evening with a grey and white striped cat riding on her shoulder. He blinks at her as she comes towards him, then says, "I know I didn't get much sleep last night, but I don't think I'm hallucinating."

She chuckles, sounding as tired as she looks. "If you mean this guy," she says, lifting the cat down from her shoulder, "no, you're not hallucinating."

"Okay. Care to explain?"

She gives what she probably thinks is a careless shrug. "We were in Wisconsin."

Enlightenment dawns. "You saw your – Dr Winslow?"

"Actually, I called in to see Robin and her mom. Cal – Dr Winslow was there, he'd brought a couple of kittens with him – they're Robin's birthday present. Anyway, he mentioned he had a slightly older cat that he was having trouble re-homing – the previous owner passed away suddenly – and I thought, I live in a home of my own now, not a secret base, so why not."

"I see." And he does see, very well – he knows how much seeing Cal means to her, even if he's now Dr Winslow, successful Vetinarian, and has no idea Daisy's his daughter. And it's typical of Daisy to want to adopt a cat that's older and lost its owner.

"Does he have a name?"

"Meemers." She says this with a totally straight face, but he still frowns, and asks, "Really?"

"Absolutely seriously," she assures him.

"Oh. Well – Hello Meemers," Coulson says, and reaches out to stroke the cat's head. He gets a sandpapery tongue licking his hand, and he chuckles softly. "Does he need feeding?"

"Nope. I fed him already. I've brought food and his cat bed – it's his actual cat bed, in fact, because Cal – Dr Winslow brought it from Meemers' home so he'd have something familiar about while he was stuck at the clinic."

Coulson nods. "In the SUV?"

"Yup."

"I'll go and get it, if you'll stir the sauce."

"Deal," Daisy says, and leans in to give him a swift kiss.

He leaves her to stir the sauce and goes out to the SUV parked in the drive. He opens the back to find the promised cat bed, a paper sack of cat biscuits and tinned food, and a bag of litter, with what looks like a brand new litter tray. He gathers it all up and carries it inside, and down the hallway to the kitchen. 

Daisy's standing at the stove, her field suit jacket hanging from the back of one of the kitchen chairs, and the cat lying across the back of her neck like some kind of mobile fur scarf.

"Thanks, Phil," she says, and he nods, then sets his burdens down. He goes back to stirring the sauce, and watches as Daisy arranges the cat's things in the corner of the kitchen nearest to the door that leads into the back garden. "We'll have to get Joey to come and put in a cat flap, for us. But for now Meemers will have to stay indoors until he gets accustomed to his new home."

The cat's been winding around her legs the whole time she's been arranging his stuff, and Coulson finds the image charmingly domestic. 

She comes to stand next to Coulson as the cat gets himself settled on his bed. "Okay, I'm gonna dash upstairs and grab a quick shower and a change of clothes," she tells him. "I'll be back in 10." She puts her hand on his chest and leans in to kiss him quickly.

"Okay." 

She grabs her field suit jacket, and heads out of the kitchen, and he finds himself staring at her back and shoulders in her tank and field suit pants as she walks away. They've been married a little over a year, and he still hasn't got over the fact that she's his wife, and the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

"I'm a lucky bastard, Meemers," he confides to the cat, who promptly abandons his bed to come over and wind around Coulson's legs. He can't resist scooping the cat up and giving it a bit of a cuddle. "You're a lucky bastard, too, you know. She'll spoil you rotten, not just for your sake, but for the sake of your dead owner, and her unknowing father." He sighs, brushes his cheek against the cat's, then sets him down so he can concentrate on getting dinner on the table.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

A week after she brought Meemers home, Daisy discovers just how well the cat's settled into his new home when she gets back from the Refuge (Phil chose the name for their Secret Warriors base, and it's grown on her), and finds her husband sprawled on the couch, sound asleep, and the cat lying on his chest. She thinks Meemers is asleep too, but as she moves stealthily towards them, the cat rolls his neck and head and looks up at her, upside down, and she smirks, then grabs her cell phone and quickly takes a photo.

"Hey you snugglepuss," she says softly, and scratches his head and neck, while looking down at Phil. He looks worn out, and she thinks guiltily that she shouldn't let him stay up all night with her when she's running a night op – he's not as young as he once was, and he needs his sleep.

She crouches down beside the couch, her right hand resting on the cat's warm fur, and draws the tip of her left index finger down Phil's cheek. "Honey, I'm home," she says softly.

"Mmm?" 

She leans in and brushes her lips against his. "Rise and shine, cupcake," she murmurs, and his eyes flutter open, and he smirks at her.

"Hello gorgeous." He reaches up and wraps a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her down towards him as he sprawls on the couch still, and she has just enough presence of mind to scoop Meemers out of the way before she settles her body over Phil's. The cat makes a protesting noise, then stalks away, tail held high, stiff in feline outrage.

"Don't think I'm Meemers' favourite person right now," she observes.

Phil chuckles. "Never mind, you're always my favourite person." His mouth latches onto hers and she moans softly as he begins kissing her, and his hands slide down her back to cup her ass. "We haven't had sex on the couch for a while," he says.

"That's because last time we did you decided you were too old for it," she reminds him, teasingly. 

"Maybe I'm not too old," he suggests, smirking, and she chuckles.

It requires a bit of manoeuvring since she's wearing jeans, the same as him, but eventually they are in a position to explore the premise, and Daisy moans with pleasure as he slides into her.

They take it slow, Daisy rocking back and forth over Phil, and exchanging increasingly sloppy kisses with him, until she feels him reaching his peak, then she drops her right hand between their bodies, and a quick burst of vibrating air is enough to make them climax together.

"Okay, I was right, I am too old for couch sex," he says when she finally lifts herself off him.

She chuckles softly. "Or maybe the bed's just more comfortable?" she suggests.

"Yeah, that." 

They get their clothes straightened out, then move into the kitchen. 

"Breakfast?" Phil asks.

"Yes," she says firmly, "then a shower and some sleep." She winds her arms around him. "You should come to bed too, after being up all night with me."

He opens his mouth to answer, then covers it with his hand as he yawns hugely. "You'll get no argument from me on that one," he reassures her.

He kisses her, she suspects for no other reason than that she's home: he'd already known she was back in one piece because he'd been running comms for her from the Refuge. She'd sent him home to bed after getting back to the Refuge with three newly transitioned Inhumans since there was no reason for them both to stay up while she dealt with paperwork and waited for the results of the initial medical checks. It doesn't surprise her that he hadn't actually gone to bed when he got home a couple of hours ago – he's always had a thing about staying up for her.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asks.

"Something quick but filling," she tells him. "I really do need to get some proper sleep before I head back." It's her turn to hide a yawn behind her hand. "I'm definitely not as young as I was."

He snorts at that, and she wonders if he thinks it's a dig. It's not intended to be, even if he is going to be 60 in a couple of months.

"What about oatmeal with fruit, then toast to follow?" he asks.

"And coffee," she says.

"Nope. No coffee – not if you want to sleep. Decaf coffee, if you must have coffee at all. But it'd be better if you had hot chocolate if you want a hot drink."

"For breakfast?" she asks quizzically.

"Certainly for breakfast."

"Mmm. Maybe I'll just have juice."

"There's a fresh jug of your favourite smoothie in the fridge."

"Phil, you're a star." She gives him a quick peck on the lips, then moves to the cabinet to get out a glass, then pours herself a glassful of Phil Coulson's Patented 'Treat Daisy Fine'™ smoothie. 

Forty-five minutes later, after they've breakfasted, and Phil's loaded the dishwasher while she took a shower, they climb into bed. They're just settling down when Meemers leaps onto the foot of the bed and walks up it to settle between them.

"Don't need a chaperone, Mr Cat," Daisy mutters, and Phil chuckles.

"I think he wants to snuggle with us," he says, and strokes the cat's head.

"Fine. Needy creature."

Phil reaches over the cat to stroke his hand down her arm. "I can't begrudge him wanting to cuddle you," he says, "not when I feel the same way all the time."

She rolls her eyes. "Still a romantic sap, I see – despite the whole being married thing."

"Always," he tells her, and she chuckles, then shifts closer, so they can cuddle each other around Meemers, who is purring like a demented thing.

"Go to sleep, Phil," she tells him, and he smirks, leans in to kiss her softly, then obediently closes his eyes. 

After a few minutes she can tell he's out for the count, and she can feel herself drifting off. She wonders whether the cat will still be between them when they wake. She suspects not, as they have a tendency to snuggle very close when they're sleeping. Most mornings they wake to find Meemers sprawled across the bottom of the bed instead.

"Go to sleep, cat," she murmurs, and his purring deepens, and her last thought before sleep claims her is that she's a very lucky woman.


End file.
